Fixing the Timeline
by Paris in December
Summary: Harry's writing the books we know and love. He sends them back in time to his parents and their friends, hoping to change the timeline. No James/Lily romance. Chapters: 4/? Fixing the Timeline series.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** So I was looking through a bunch of Marauders-read-the-Harry-Potter-books stories, and there were a lot of dissatisfying things I found, like everyone automatically assuming the books are accurate and instantly sympathizing with Harry (not to mention getting way too emotional about everything!). That got me thinking about how to improve on those points, and one thing led to another, and, well, here we are! The prologue explains how the books are going to end up back in the Marauders' era.

This is another ridiculously long-term project. One warning: I don't discriminate based on sexual orientation, so while I'm not sure what pairings will develop, you can reasonably expect to see slash and femslash as well as straight relationships.

* * *

**Prologue**

The war memorial was taller than Harry, tall enough that he would have needed a stepladder to read the names at the top of it. He wouldn't bother with that, though, not when he could recite the names from memory.

_Albus Dumbledore. Sirius Black._

The monolith stood in the Great Hall, just behind the Head Table. It had taken a long time to build because the names of the dead had each been carved by a family member or close friend. Harry had carved several of those names himself.

_Nymphadora Tonks. Remus Lupin._

Harry spent months arguing with the builders over whether to include the names of Slytherins and others who had died as collateral damage. He hadn't been sure until this moment whether or not he'd won out.

_Severus Snape. Xenophilius Lovegood._

There were a lot of names on the monument – too many. Harry wrapped his arms more tightly around the book he was holding, his gaze not moving from the stone.

_Ted Tonks. Andromeda Tonks._

Some of them were innocents.

_Colin Creevey. Teddy Lupin._

Some of them were teachers.

_Minerva McGonagall. Rubeus Hagrid._

Some of them were friends.

_Fred Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Luna Lovegood. Seamus Finnigan. Hannah Abbott. Padma Patil. Parvati Patil. Ronald Weasley. Dean Thomas. Percy Weasley. Bill Weasley. Arthur Weasley…_

"Is that your book? You've finished it?"

Harry turned slowly at the sound of a voice. It was Ginny, standing just beside the empty headmaster's chair and leaning one hand on it. She looked tired, but she was always tired lately.

"Yeah. I finished it." Harry glanced down at the book in his arms. "_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. That's the title."

"It sounds a bit like a children's book."

"If only it were." Harry looked back at the monument with unsmiling eyes. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen Dobby's name anywhere on there. He supposed the builders didn't count house-elves as worthy of memorial. At least Dobby had a proper grave and a stone of his own.

Ginny released the chair and walked over to him with unsteady feet. She reached out a hand to grip his arm tightly, her face carefully blank to mask her pain. "What are you going to do? Publish it?"

Harry shifted the book so that he could wrap an arm around Ginny's waist, supporting her, and he felt her lean into his touch. "Maybe. I don't know. It seems too… disrespectful, somehow. Like I'd be making money off of people's deaths."

"Then what?" Ginny's expression was shrewd as she looked into his face. "You sound as though you've got a plan."

* * *

"What? No! You cannot possibly be serious, Harry!"

"Hermione –" Harry tried to interrupt, but his friend was having none of it.

"Do you have _any_ idea what kinds of things can happen when you mess with time? Don't you remember third year?" Hermione paced back and forth in front of him. They were in the Burrow, congregated in the otherwise empty kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had gone off somewhere and left them to it, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't want to know how she'd take it.

"I do remember, Hermione, but I've done some research and I think the risk is manageable," he said. "With your help and Bill's notes," and here he paused to nod at Charlie, who sat with Ginny on the other side of the room, "I can control the time flow enough to make sure they get all seven books before the paradoxes actively start changing our reality."

"That's the part that worries me," said Charlie. "The 'changing our reality' part. What exactly does that mean?"

"It _means_ that when Harry's parents and their friends read his books, they'll do things differently than they did to lead to where we are now," said Hermione, her tone acidic. "And we have no idea how things will change, which is why it's so _dangerous_!"

"You mean, say, Lily and James could pick Sirius as Secret-Keeper instead of Pettigrew because they know he's a Death Eater?" said Ginny.

"It's worse than that," said Hermione grimly. "Lily might not even marry James in the first place. Harry wants to send the books back to when Professor Snape was still friends with her."

"Then you might not even exist anymore!" Charlie's expression was horrified as he looked at Harry. "Or you'd have Snape for a father, which might even be worse."

"I'm willing to take that risk," said Harry. "I'm not even convinced my parents were right together in the first place."

"Just because Snape had an unhealthy obsession with your mum?" said Ginny with a faint smirk.

Harry shook his head. "No, because my mum spent about six years _hating_ my dad, and then suddenly had a change of heart. Anyway, it's not about me, can't you see that? I don't want Snape to become a Death Eater. I don't want Pettigrew to become a Death Eater, either. Take them out of the equation and Voldemort might never even hear the prophecy."

"Then how will he be destroyed?" asked Charlie.

"I'll include details about the Horcruxes in the books," Harry explained. "By the time my parents are out of school, they'll have the way to defeat Voldemort for good. Then they won't die, and neither will anyone else. There won't even be a second war."

The room was silent for a long moment as all of them contemplated this. Harry's mind went back to the monolith in the Great Hall, imagining what it would be like if that never had to be erected. Ron would still be around, and the rest of the Weasleys, and Remus and Sirius and Dumbledore… Sirius wouldn't even have to spend twelve years in Azkaban!

"I still say it's dangerous," said Hermione at last, lowering herself into a chair. "But maybe you're right. Maybe it's worth the risk."

"I'm all for killing Voldemort the first time around," said Charlie.

"I can't help," said Ginny quietly. Her eyes were fixed on Harry. "You know I can't help."

Harry gave her a small smile. "I know, Gin. But you can help me with the books. And when things start changing, hopefully you'll be back to normal. Easier than trying to find an antidote, right?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Anything," she whispered. "Anything to be normal again."

"That's it, then," said Harry, standing up abruptly. He picked up his book from where it lay on the kitchen table. "Let's get to work."


	2. Part 1: The Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note:** I feel it is important to mention that, while I'm using the British title of the book, the edition I'll be using is the American one (with a few edits; it always throws me off when they switch "mum" to "mom," and anyway they stopped doing it after the first book). This will go for all the books in the series. Hey, I'm American, and I don't have access to the British editions at any rate. The only reason I'm using the British title is because it simply makes more sense. Besides, Harry's the one "writing" the books in this story, yeah?

If you've read any of my other fics, you've probably already noticed that I do put Britishisms in when I feel they work, but I only have a very limited Britishized vocabulary and I haven't made any great effort to perfect it. This is something you'll just have to live with. It's fanfiction. That's all I have to say.

* * *

**Part 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**

**Prelude: Harry's Note**

The fourth year Gryffindor girls' dorm was blessedly empty when Lily got there. She was flushed and furious about James Potter's persistent and increasingly lewd advances, and desperately needed a place to hide without being bothered. Silently thanking the Founders for the hex on the girls' staircases that kept out the boys, Lily pulled back her curtains to flop onto her bed – and stopped short.

There was a strange book on her pillow. The cover was adorned with a lovely animated picture of what appeared to be a Potter clone… with Lily's bright green eyes.

Incensed, Lily snatched up the book and flipped it open, fully expecting to find that it was some disgusting joke made up by Potter's fan club, better known as the Marauders. What she saw instead brought her up short, again.

_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, said the inside cover. Beneath the words was a note, written in an unfamiliar hand.

_Dear Lily and James,_

_My name is Harry Potter, and I'm your son. Yes, I'm quite serious, and no, I don't understand it either, but please bear with me and just assume for the moment that this isn't a terrible joke and that I have genuinely contacted you from the future. I'm working on a series of books about my experiences in the war against Lord Voldemort. The book you are holding in your hands is the first one. I've sent a copy to each of you._

_I know the information contained in this book will be a lot to handle. You might not even believe it at first. All I ask is that you keep reading until the end of the series, and make your decisions then. Your fate, and the fate of the wizarding world, depends on your cooperation. You'll see why very shortly._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Lily read the note three times in quick succession, but it didn't make any more sense by the time she got through the third reading. Her son in the future – with _Potter_? It was completely absurd.

On the other hand, if this _was_ a prank of some sort, it was rather clever. She doubted if any of the Marauders could have come up with something like this; they didn't have the brainpower. And it wasn't as though she had anything better to do while she sat up here and waited for Potter and his cronies to leave for dinner.

Her mind made up, Lily sank onto her bed, pulled the curtains closed, and began to read.


	3. Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note:** I'm glad to have a few alerts, but perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask for a review or two? Normally I don't ask for them so much, but it _is_ appreciated and it gives me some encouragement to write further.

I should mention at this point a couple of things. One, you can tell what's from the book in the usual manner for these types of stories - that is, the bolding. And two, anything not bolded is an interjection, and some of these are in the middle of the bolded paragraphs (implying that they're spoken by the reader at the time), so be careful if you're skimming the quoted sections.

* * *

**_Arc 1: You're a Wizard, Harry_**

**Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived**

James had found his copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ on the same day Lily found hers, though much later in the evening, right before he went to bed. He skimmed through it briefly, but found so many unfamiliar names that he decided he should probably start reading at the beginning. Then he reread the note and decided that it would be more fun to share.

Thus, the Marauders were now sitting in their dorm room on an otherwise dull Saturday morning. It was raining outside, and therefore perfect for doing some light, hopefully entertaining reading.

"Right, James, so what's this book you mentioned?" said Sirius, who lay sprawled on his bed. "And why are we reading it?"

"Because," said James, pulling out the book and showing them the cover, "someone's decided to pretend they're my son from the future. My son with _Lily Evans_."

His statement was met with expressions of awe and disbelief on the part of his friends.

"Evans would never let you close enough to get her pregnant," Remus declared. "She hates you. She hates _all_ of us."

"She hates me and James," Sirius corrected. "I don't think she cares about you and Pete, mate, you don't do as much of the pranking."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Oi," James cut in with a frown. "Are we going to read this book or not? I for one am excited to see what someone thinks our son would be like." He grinned and opened the book, flipping past the table of contents. "Chapter one: The Boy Who Lived. What does that mean?"

"Just read it," said Remus.

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.**

Sirius interrupted him at this point. "Calling it – they'll get involved in something strange and mysterious."

"What does this have to do with Harry Potter?" Peter wanted to know. "Who the hell are the Dursleys?"

"Well, I suppose if we keep reading, we'll find out," said James. He turned back to the book.

**Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.**

"What the fuck is a drill?" This time, James interrupted himself.

"It's a Muggle thing," said Remus. "I doubt it's important, except to show that Mr. Dursley is a really boring Muggle."

**He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

"They sound like quite the family," James added, trying to keep his face straight. It was hard when all three of his companions were doubled over with laughter at the descriptions.

**The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

"Ah-ha!" Sirius crowed. "There you are."

**Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband –**

"Oi, that's not fair," James protested, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence. "And what's this about pretending Lily doesn't exist?"

"Does Evans even have a sister?" said Remus.

**Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her **WONDERFUL** husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.** I'll take that as a compliment. **The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.**

"What, you mean a child with the best dad in the world?" Sirius chortled.

Remus shook his head. "I think it might be the fact that he's a magical child," he said slowly. "We've already established that the Dursleys are Muggles, right? All that about being _normal_ probably means they consider wizards to be _abnormal_."

"Well, that's just stupid," said Sirius.

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country.**

"Called it!" That was Sirius.

**Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.**

"Someone's sending them a letter?" Peter sounded confused.

"Or a letter to someone else in the neighborhood," said Remus. "Carry on, James."

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.**

"Spoiled brat," said Sirius.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" James grinned.

**He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. **Shut _up_, you lot. **Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror.**

"Wait, what mirror?" James turned to Remus for an explanation.

"Cars have mirrors so you can check behind you and make sure you don't run into anything."

"Weird," said James, imagining the mirror in his bedroom at home stuck onto the dashboard of a car, which in his mind was completely covered with strange dials and buttons.

**He watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, **_**looking**_** at the sign; cats couldn't read maps **_**or**_** signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.**

"In the middle of a Muggle town and in broad daylight? What are they _thinking_?" Remus muttered. "Are wizards _mad_ in the future?"

"Maybe there's an explanation later," said Peter.

**Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.**

"See, something's going on," Peter interjected.

**Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. **Oh, I love Muggles, they come up with the strangest explanations. **The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.**

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He**_** didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.**

"I agree with Pete," said Sirius. "Something's definitely going on. It sounds like everyone in the country is owling everyone else."

**Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. **Most boring Muggle _ever_.

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

"**The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –"**

"– **yes, their son, Harry –"**

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him.** Oh, man up, dimwit. **He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.** Yes, but there'll only be one wizard family, eh? **Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **_**was**_** called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.**

"What a prick! He doesn't even know his own nephew's name," James groused.

"Would you really be in touch with him, though?" Remus said reasonably. "Would you want contact with that kind of ugly Muggle?"

"It doesn't have to make sense," said Sirius. "I bet Evans doesn't even have a sister."

**There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **_**he'd**_** had a sister like that… **You're right, Sirius, Evans couldn't possibly have that kind of horrible sister…** but all the same, those people in cloaks…**

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

"**Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

There was a moment of silence as the boys digested this information.

"You-Know-Who… they must be talking about Voldemort," said Remus at last. "Some people don't like to say his name. And if he was still in power up until this point, which is at least a few years after we're out of school, it could be that _everyone's_ afraid to say it."

"But what does this have to do with me and Lily?" James wondered. "The wizards in the street were talking about us and our son. Our _baby_ son." He shuddered. "I'm not sure I want to know what happened…"

"Well, I do," said Peter. "Keep reading!"

"Here, mate, I'll take it," Sirius offered, reaching across the space between their beds. James let him take the book.

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

"Okay, here's a question," said Remus. "Why are we seeing things from Dursley's point of view?"

"Only you, Remus, would talk about point of view while we're having storytime," said Sirius impatiently. "Can we get on with it?"

"I was just wondering because it makes it seem like Dursley's an important character."

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.**

"Merlin, it's McGonagall!" cried James.

"No, it couldn't possibly be her," Remus argued. "What would she be doing at the Dursleys'?"

"**Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. **I'm with James on this one; it's got to be McGonagall. **Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.** Nope! **Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

**Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

"**And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusuall today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin…**

"What's up with this? Are these news people standing in the living room with them?" Sirius asked Remus.

"That would be a television set," said Remus. "Better than radio. You can see and hear."

"**Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"**

"**Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."**

**Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair.** He seems to get frozen a lot. Maybe he's having a seizure. **Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…**

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

**As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

"**No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

"**Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"**

"_**So?**_**" snapped Mrs. Dursley. **What a nice woman.

"**Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… **_**her**_** crowd."**

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"**

"**I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

"**What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"**

"**Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

"**Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.**

**Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it. **Bloody wanker.

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters **_**were**_** involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn't affect **_**them**_**…**

**How very wrong he was.**

"Uh-oh," said Remus. "I told you it was bad that Dursley had the point of view."

**Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.**

"It's Dumbledore!" Peter squealed.

"Shut up," Sirius growled, before turning back to the book.

**This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.** State the obvious, why don't you.

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.** It'd amuse me too, seeing McGonagall on a Muggle street. **He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter.**

Sirius paused. "What's a cigarette lighter?"

"It's a metal contraption Muggles use to light cigarettes," said Remus promptly.

"Okay, so what's a cigarette?"

"It's like a pipe, but disposable."

"Can we get on with the story?" said James. "Since you all want so badly to read it, I mean." He still hadn't forgotten the sense of foreboding from the mentions of the Potters in conjunction with "You-Know-Who."

**He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer** – stupidest name _ever_ – **until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.**

"So McGonagall's eyes are glowing," said Remus. "That's a first."

"What d'you mean?" said Peter. "Don't cats' eyes always glow?"

"Only when they're reflecting the light."

"Let's just assume it's from the moonlight and carry on," said James.

**If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. **I've got to get me one of those. Wonder if Dumbledore actually has something like that? **Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

"**Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." **Yes! We were right!

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman **(That's an understatement!)** who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

"**How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

Remus snorted. "Of course he knew it was you. Like Dumbledore hasn't seen her Animagus form before!"

"**My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

"**You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.**

"Here's a question," Sirius added. "Why was she watching the Dursleys? What do they have to do with anything? And what's Dumbledore doing there?"

"That's three questions," said Peter.

"**All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."**

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.**

"How do you sniff angrily?" asked James, trying to imagine it.

The four boys spent a moment attempting to do just that, but when Peter made a huge sort of snorting noise and fell off his bed, they collapsed into laughter.

"Okay, okay," said Sirius breathlessly at last. He picked up the book again.

"**Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars.… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

"**You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."** That's a bloody long time to deal with Voldemort.

"**I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. **I think we're getting down to it here, boys. **"A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has**_** gone, Dumbledore?"**

"**It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

"A what?" said James.

"**A **_**what**_**?"**

"**A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."**

"**No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. **Somehow I doubt any moment is the moment for lemon drops, knowing Dumbledore. **"As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has**_** gone –"**

"**My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: **_**Voldemort**_**." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.**

"McGonagall isn't afraid to say his name, I don't think," said James, though now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her mention Voldemort before.

"I suppose things will get worse, then," said Remus.

"**It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."**

"**I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, **_**Voldemort**_**, was frightened of."**

"**You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."**

"**Only because you're too – well – **_**noble**_** to use them."**

"**It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

James snorted. "That's Dumbledore, all right. Whoever wrote this must be on good terms with him. Maybe we can ask him about it later."

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the **_**rumors**_** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.**

"**What they're **_**saying**_**," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – **_**dead**_**."**

"No," said James in disbelief. As Sirius had read this section, he'd felt increasingly uneasy, but now it just seemed unreal.

"She might be wrong," said Peter in a small voice.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.**

"**Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.**

"Sounds like she's right, mate," said Sirius. He set down the book and moved over to James's bed to slap him on the shoulder. "Tough luck. In this imaginary future where Evans magically agrees to marry you and you live in some weird place called Godric's Hollow, Voldemort kills you."

James gave a weak sort of laugh. When Sirius put it that way, it did seem kind of silly. But still… "I just don't like thinking about dying. It scares me a little bit."

"It's just a book," said Sirius bracingly. "Remus, get the book and pick up. Tell us about Harry. He must have survived, unless it's his ghost that's supposed to have written all this."

Remus obligingly sat on Sirius's bed to read.

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."**

"All right, now I know it's fiction," said Sirius. "A little baby destroying Voldemort? What is he, the reincarnation of Merlin?"

**Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

"**It's – it's **_**true**_**?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

"**We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."** I'll bet that's a lie. If it were true, Dumbledore'd be the one to know.

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. **Now here's another question, James. Since when does McGonagall like you that much? **Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

"Watches like that aren't terribly strange," said Sirius.

"It sounds like it's been written by a Muggle, kind of," said Remus. He frowned at the book. "But why…? Oh, no. No, no, no."

"What?" James leaned around Sirius to get a better look at his werewolf friend.

Remus flipped through several more pages and groaned. "It's because Harry is going to be raised as a Muggle. Dumbledore's giving him to the Dursleys! That's why they're there!"

"I think maybe this bloke doesn't know Dumbledore as well as we thought," said Sirius wryly. "Why would our great Headmaster do something like that? What about, say, me, or Remus, or Peter? Don't you think we'd take care of our best friend's orphaned kid?"

"**Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why**_** you're here, of all places?"**

"**I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."**

"**You don't mean – you **_**can't**_** mean the people who live **_**here**_**?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"**

"**It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. **Yes, as if they'll actually do such a thing. **I've written them a letter." **Sure, that'll help.

"**A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!"**

"**Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"**

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

"**Hagrid's bringing him."**

Sirius let out a whoop. "Hagrid!"

"**You think it – **_**wise**_** – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

"**I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

"**I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

"What's a motorcycle?" Sirius interrupted.

"It's a bit like a bicycle, only with a motor – I mean it's powered, like a car," Remus tried to explain, although James at least was having trouble figuring out what that would look like. "It's very… it can be loud and obnoxious, and it goes as fast as a car, only you're not boxed in."

"I want one," Sirius declared.

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it.**

"Great, we get a description of Hagrid," said Remus. "Can I skip it?"

"No, I want to hear how 'Harry' describes him," said James.

**He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild**_** – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins.**

"_Baby dolphins?_" said Sirius incredulously, while Remus made a funny squeaking sound. "You're reading it wrong. Give it here."

Remus tossed the book to them. "I'm on page fourteen."

Sirius opened the book and scanned it, while James looked over his shoulder. "Great Merlin, it really does say that."

James took up the reading now, since the book was there in front of him.

**In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets. **Hello, Harry.

"**Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

"**Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me."**

"_I told you I want one! I'm in this book!_"

"Sirius, shut up," said James, as Remus fell off Sirius's bed in his laughter. "It's not even _real_, remember?"

"**I've got him, sir."**

"**No problems, were there?"**

"**No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." **Pretty good attempt at Hagrid's accent, anyway.

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

"**Is that where –?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

"**Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever." **Bad luck, mate.

"**Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"**

"**Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.** We have to ask him about that, too. **Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.**

"**Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss.**

"Now, wait a minute," said Sirius. "It sounds like Harry doesn't even know what it was like."

"Well, he doesn't. He's asleep, remember?" said James.

Remus, who was now sitting with Peter on Peter's bed, gave a little chuckle. "This is how we know it's fake, right? How could Harry know what the Dursleys and Dumbledore were doing before he arrived and while he's asleep? Not to mention I don't remember anything from when I was a baby in that kind of detail."

**Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

"**Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"**

"**S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles –" **Didn't realize Hagrid cared that much about Evans. Does he even know who she is?

"**Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep **– the bloody _doorstep_? This is my son! He'll get stepped on! – er,** took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

"**Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

"**Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."**

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

"**I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

"**Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.**

"Why didn't McGonagall Apparate, too?" Remus wondered.

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley.… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!"**

James snapped the book shut decisively. "That's enough for today, I think. Guess that explains the chapter title."

"I want to know why it's written like a children's book," said Remus. "Or was it supposed to have been sent to you at eleven?"

"Does it matter? We're reading it now."

"It's kind of boring so far," Peter piped up. "Let's play Exploding Snap instead."

There was no argument from the other boys, so Sirius and James slipped off James's bed to get the cards. The book lay forgotten on James's pillow once again.


	4. Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass

**Author's Note:** Shoutout to shiftyless, Cwam, and shyfoxling for the reviews! In answer to shyfoxling, I agree that the Marauders are smart, but Lily isn't considering their kind of intelligence to be intelligence at all. As far as being top of their classes, I sometimes take Rowling's words with a grain of salt. In this case I imagine James and Sirius are rather like Fred and George: they could get better grades if they put an effort into it, but they won't, so they don't. Remus is different, of course, but he misses so many classes that his grades suffer a bit.

Just in case anyone cares, I'll tell you that the boys' beds are arranged thus: Sirius on the far left, then James, Peter, and Remus.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass**

The next day was just as rainy, if not more so, and the Marauders once again found themselves sequestered in their dorm room – this time because Evans was truly angry with James, and they thought it better to make themselves scarce. At least, James thought so, and his friends were supporting him.

Sirius chose to flop onto James's bed today and managed to smack his head against the Harry Potter book, which was once again on James's pillow. James hadn't tried to find a place to put it yet.

"Ouch! Ah, this thing." Sirius picked it up. "Want to read some more?"

"Do we have a choice?" said James, perching on Sirius's bed since his was taken. Sirius was already flipping through the pages.

"Nope," said Sirius cheerfully. "Let's see then. Chapter two: The Vanishing Glass. Sounds interesting."

"It had better be more interesting than the first chapter," said Peter, "or I'm going back downstairs."

**Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets –**

Here Sirius was forced to pause in his reading, as he was laughing too hard. James, too, was finding it difficult to breathe.

"I don't know what a beach ball is," he gasped, "but that's just _sad_."

"A beach ball is a very large, inflatable round thing," said Remus, who was not quite laughing, but definitely grinning.

Sirius got himself under control and turned to the book again.

– **but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game **(whatever that is)** with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. **They put that up in a _photograph_? Muggles are weird. **The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.**

**Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. **Lovely.

"**Up! Get up! Now!"**

**Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.**

"**Up!" she screeched.** Again, lovely woman. **Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. **YES! **He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.**

"_He remembers my motorcycle!_" Sirius shouted, waving the book in the air.

James slid off Sirius's bed so that he could reach over and snatch it.

"Stop making such a fuss over that motorcycle, it doesn't even exist." He sat back down, this time on his own bed next to Sirius, and took over the reading.

**His aunt was back outside the door.**

"**Are you up yet?" she demanded.**

"**Nearly," said Harry.**

"**Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."** What an awful nickname. And they let a ten-year-old kid cook?

**Harry groaned.**

"**What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.**

"**Nothing, nothing…"**

**Dudley's birthday – how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them **– what? That's disgusting – **put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.**

It was Sirius's turn to grab the book away, because James was spluttering indignantly. "This is my son you're putting in the cupboard! Why not give him a normal bed? Just because he's a wizard? We're people too – a good sight better than the Dursleys!"

"Stop making such a fuss over Harry," said Sirius, "he doesn't even exist." He grinned when James made a face at him. Now Sirius started reading again.

**When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody. **Brat.** Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.** Probably because his stupid cousin is chasing him all the time.

**Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. **Poor kid.** Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape –**

"What's Scotch tape?" Sirius asked Remus.

"Holds stuff together," said Remus with a shrug. "Muggles can't just flick their wands and repair things, so they use glue and tape and other sticky stuff."

– **because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.** Too bad, James. Whoever wrote this obviously thinks you're ugly. **He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.**

"**In the car crash when your parents died," she had said.**

"A _car crash_?" James snorted. "Somehow I doubt Voldemort killed us with a car."

"**And don't ask questions."**

_**Don't ask questions**_** – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.** Quiet. Yeah, right.

**Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.** Vernon? That's even worse than Dudley for a name.

"**Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.**

**About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – all over the place.**

"He inherited my hair," said James woefully. "I feel so sorry for him." He brushed a hand through his own hair. "It _never_ lies straight."

"You never even want it to," said Peter. "You're always making it worse."

**Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.** I love this bloke's descriptions. **Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.**

Sirius gave a loud snort. "That's perfect. I think I'm going to like Harry."

"Good for him, not letting the Dursleys get him down," said Remus approvingly.

**Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.**

"**Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."**

"Sirius," Remus interrupted, "how many presents do you get for your birthday?"

"Less than twenty." Sirius grimaced. "And I'm talking about when my parents still _gave_ me presents."

"You obviously haven't been spoiled enough," said James with a grin.

"Why, how many presents do you get?"

"I don't get that many, but my parents tend to get me expensive stuff, like my broom." James couldn't help but smile dopily at the thought of his beloved broomstick.

Sirius snorted. "And you make fun of me for wanting that motorcycle."

"Ah, but the difference is I actually _have_ my broom."

"**Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."**

"**All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on **– and you say this kid's _eleven_? – **began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.**

**Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too **– well, if you didn't spoil him stupid you wouldn't have to deal with that kind of tantrum, idiot woman – **because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another **_**two**_** presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? **_**Two **_**more presents. Is that all right?"**

**Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…" **Merlin, the boy can't even count.

"**Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.**

"**Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."**

**Uncle Vernon chuckled.**

"**Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.**

"Isn't that what he called Dudley when he was a baby, too? 'Little tyke'?" said Remus.

"Some people never grow up, I guess," said James.

**At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.**

Sirius looked at Remus pleadingly.

Remus sighed. "Racing bike, just an especially nice bicycle. A video camera makes movies, which are kind of like the Muggles' version of our moving photographs, except that they can only show the same events over and over. I guess whoever wrote this is assuming they'll be commercially available to well-off Muggles in the future. A remote control airplane… I'm not really sure what that is, sorry. And a VCR plays movies."

**He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.**

"**Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.**

**Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies.** So like what he can make with his video thingy, I guess.** Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.**

"**Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.** Horrible cat lady with horrible cat names, ugh.

"**We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.**

"**Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."**

**The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. **Ew.

"**What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"**

"**On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.**

"**You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).**

**Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.**

"**And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.**

"**I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.**

"**I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave him in the car.…"**

Sirius stopped abruptly and shook his head. "Who would do that to a kid? Who would do that to their _nephew_? Something is _wrong_ with this family."

"I'm afraid to ask Lily if she has a sister named Petunia," said James wryly, "in case it's true and she _is_ like that."

"**That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone.…"**

**Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying – it had been years since he'd really cried – but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.**

"Brat," said James with a snort.

"Oh, just wait, it gets better," said Sirius, grinning at the book.

"**Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.**

"_Dinky Duddydums?_" James repeated, thunderstruck. "And he _lets_ her call him that?"

"Well, we already know Dudley's growth is stunted," said Remus. "His mental age is probably closer to six than eleven."

"**I… don't… want… him… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" **What, just by being there? You're exaggerating, kid. **He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.**

**Just then, the doorbell rang – "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother.**

"Do all Muggles have stupid names?" Sirius wanted to know.

Remus shrugged. "Maybe whoever wrote this just couldn't think of anything better. I doubt 'Piers Polkiss' is a _real_ person, Muggle or otherwise."

**Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.**

**Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.**

"**I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."**

"**I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"**

**But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.**

**The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen. **Ah, I was wondering if accidental magic was going to show up. Bet the Dursleys hate that.

**Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this –**

Sirius blinked. "Wait, Dursley was serious about leaving him in the cupboard for that long? I'd think that would qualify as child abuse."

"So would I," said Remus, "but it doesn't get dealt with if no one reports it. Anyway, Muggles are a bit behind as far as treating abuse cases goes."

**He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he **_**couldn't**_** explain how it had grown back so quickly.**

**Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). **That _is_ revolting. **The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.**

**On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney.**

James whistled, impressed. "He Apparated with accidental magic? I never did that."

"I did, once," Peter volunteered. "Mum took me to this _horrible_ dinner party and I wanted to be out of there so badly that I just… _was_."

"Nice," said Sirius, grinning.

James shook his head. "It's kind of sad, though, that all his accidental magic is coming about because it _has_ to. It's not quite as innocent as you usually think of it, is it?"

"Innocent?" said Remus dryly. "I don't think my parents would agree with you about that. Yours probably wouldn't, either."

"Mine definitely wouldn't," said Sirius. "Anyway."

**The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.**

**But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.**

"And with that," said James, "you know something is going to go wrong."

**While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. **Really witty, there. D'you think he hates Harry? **This morning, it was motorcycles.** Yes!

"… **roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.**

"**I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."**

**Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"**

"These Muggles have no sense of imagination," said Remus, shaking his head. "Honestly, it was a dream!"

Out of the corner of his eye, James spotted Peter slipping out through the door, but he decided not to say anything.

**Dudley and Piers sniggered.**

"**I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream." **Well, at least Harry has some sense.

**But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.**

"Now that's just stupid," said James. "They _know_ he's a wizard. Why not just tell him?"

"They probably think that if they ignore it, it'll stop being true," said Remus dismissively. Then he looked around, blinking. "Hey, where's Peter?"

"He snuck out just now. Dunno why, he seemed at least a little interested." James shrugged.

**It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. **You'd think someone would notice this blatant neglect. **It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.**

"I thought Dudley was supposed to look like a pig," said James.

"So maybe the gorilla looks like a pig," said Sirius with a shrug.

**Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. **Which someone _ought to notice_! **They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.**

**Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.**

"What was all too good to last?" That was Peter, coming back into the dorm with a pile of Chocolate Frogs.

Sirius put down the book and reached for a frog. "_Excellent_, Peter! Where'd you get these?"

"Bought them off Frank earlier today. I hadn't had a chance to bring them up yet, so I hid them under James's cloak." Peter pulled the cloak out of his robes and tossed it at James. "Sorry, mate."

"For chocolate, I'll forgive you." James grabbed a frog for himself and unwrapped it. "No one saw you with it, though, right?"

Peter shook his head. "I was careful, don't worry. So what was too good to last?"

"Harry's having a good day at the zoo," Remus explained. "He's had two desserts so far and seen a gorilla that looks like a pig."

"Is that what a knickerbocker glory is – a dessert? And lemon ice pops, too? I was wondering," said Sirius.

Peter flopped down onto his bed. "Hey, Sirius, can I read a bit? You all read in chapter one."

"Sure." Sirius tossed the book over to Peter. "Don't you want any frogs, though?"

"I ate two on the way up."

"You've barely been gone five minutes!" said Sirius.

Instead of responding, Peter turned to the book.

**After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can – but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.**

**Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.**

"Glistening with what? Snakes aren't slimy," Peter muttered.

"The light, maybe. You're right though, it's not the best word," said Remus.

"**Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.**

"**Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. **Right, who'd listen to that git anyway?

"**This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.**

**Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house. **Is it just me, or is it bizarre that Harry's situation makes him sympathetic to a _snake_?

**The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.**

_**It winked.**_

Sirius hooted with laughter. "That's ridiculous! Snakes don't _wink_. Do they even have the right kind of eyelids for that?"

"Why're you looking at me?" Remus asked irritably when James and Sirius both turned their eyes to him. "I don't know anything about snakes."

**Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.** Maybe he's hallucinating.

**The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:**

"_**I get that all the time.**_**"**

Peter squawked. "Harry's a Parselmouth!"

"Don't be thick, Peter," said Sirius. "It gave him a _look_, it didn't talk to him. Although that _is_ weird behavior for a snake."

"**I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."**

**The snake nodded vigorously. **Are you sure about that, Sirius? It seems to understand him.

"**Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.**

**The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.**

**Boa Constrictor, Brazil.**

"**Was it nice there?"**

**The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see – so you've never been to Brazil?" **He is _so_ a Parselmouth!

**As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.** Do snakes jump? **"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T **_**BELIEVE**_** WHAT IT'S DOING!"**

**Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.**

"**Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.**

**Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.**

"That's why the chapter is called 'The Vanishing Glass'!" James exclaimed. "That is the _wickedest_ bit of accidental magic ever!"

**The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.**

**As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo."**

"See? He's a Parselmouth! I _told_ you!" said Peter.

Sirius bit his lip. "It does sound like it," he admitted. "Sorry, mate." He addressed this last to James, who shrugged.

"I don't care. Snakes are just snakes, it's wizards who're Dark, right? Dunno how he got it, though, it's not from Lily or me."

"Does it have to be genetic?" Remus wondered.

**The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.**

"**But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"**

**The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"**

**Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go – cupboard – stay – no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.**

"He sure blames Harry for everything," said James, frowning. "How does he know Harry had anything to do with the glass? And why would talking to a snake be so bad to a Muggle?"

"He's just stupid, that's what it is," said Sirius. "Harry's 'abnormal' by his standards, therefore everything abnormal happens because of Harry. It just sucks for him that he's pretty much right."

"Sucks for who, Vernon or Harry?"

"Both, I guess."

**Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.**

**He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.**

There was a moment of very serious silence.

"That's a horrible thing for a kid to remember," said Sirius softly.

James gave a strained smile. "At least he doesn't know yet what the green light _means_."

**This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.**

"Or of Harry, as I recall," Peter added.

"Muggle photos are worthless anyway, they don't move," said Remus.

**When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too.** He's met wizards!** A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look. **Apparating in the middle of crowds of Muggles seems like a bad idea.

**At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.**

"That's the end of the chapter," Peter concluded, closing the book and offering it to James across the space between their beds. "Well, it was better than the first one."

"I expect it'll continue to get more exciting," said Remus. "That's what books do, right?"

"Tomorrow's classes again," James commented, looking speculatively at the cover of the book. 'Harry' winked at him and walked out of the picture. "Want to read another chapter now? Who knows when we'll get back to it?" Besides, he couldn't be sure if Evans had cooled down yet, and he didn't want to face her wrath again.

"Sure. You start," said Sirius with a grin. He arranged himself on James's pillow. James promptly leaned back on him before opening the book again.


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Summer SoLo, shiftyless, Aenaris, and jln191091 for the reviews!

For those who haven't recently visited my profile, you should go there, because there's a link to my new account, Paris and the Blue Jewel. While I'll still be posting the occasional challenge or gift fic on this account, my long projects are all moving over to the new place - including a REVAMP of Fixing the Timeline. It'll be split into two stories - one made up of "Letters to Harry" about the books (I realized it would be murder to try and type up all seven of them with comments!), the other detailing the events of the Marauders' real lives, plus the people in the original timeline (as per the prologue). "Snakes and Mirrors" on the new account is the first installation of Letters to Harry.

Thanks!


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